Unforgettable Scars
by HeyJewel
Summary: AU, Written Pre-DH. Ginny hasn't seen Harry for fifteen years. She used to love him, but she has since been married to an old enemy. So what happens when they unexpectedly run into each other? Fifteen years of bottled up emotions release themselves.


Ginny hasn't seen Harry for fifteen years. She used to love him, but she has since been married to an old enemy. So what happens when they unexpectadly run into each other? Fifteen years of bottled up emotions release themself. One-shot, romance & lots of angst, Written pre-Deathly Hallows

EDIT: So I'm re-uploading this because some errors were pissing me off. Keep in mind that I wrote this about four years ago. Also, I may be writing a sequel from Harry's point of view. Not totally sure yet, though. Hope you enjoy.

**Unforgettable Scars**

My life has not been a happy one. I have made many mistakes and have many regrets. My first and biggest mistake was letting the man of my dreams walk away from me. I will never live down the remorse I have for when he told me that he couldn't be with me anymore, out of fear of losing me to the Dark Lord, and I accepted he decision. And soon, after a painful summer of avoiding one another, he departed to track down the soul of Voldemort, and finish him off once and for all.

That was the last time I saw Harry Potter for many, many years.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, I gave up hope that Harry would come back for me. My brother and Hermione, who had lost track of him in the midst of the final battle, never knew what had become of their best friend. No one had heard from Harry, nor was a body ever found. It was unclear whether he was alive or dead. I didn't want to wait any longer; ten years with no word on him was long enough.

I lost all faith in Harry, with the Order, with Dumbledore's memory. I began to host dark thoughts, evil thoughts. Images of terrible things happening to my family, to Harry, were running through my brain. I wanted to curse anyone who was happy and wanted everyone to be miserable, because I was miserable. Often at night I would dream of murdering or torturing my parents, or my brothers and their wives, especially Ron and Hermione, who were newlyweds and the happiest they've ever been. I would dream of accompanying Voldemort to the final battle, and instead of Harry slaying him (the way it actually occurred), I would kill Harry and be honored by Voldemort above all others. These thoughts and nightmares scared me, but over time I learned to accept them. I moved far away from my family, and into confinement. Eventually, I knew what I had to do.

It took a great deal of time to find a Death Eater who was not imprisoned or in hiding, but finally I succeeded. Draco Malfoy was not thrilled about taking me in; my family were, after all, the worst kind of blood traitors, but I finally proved to him that I was not like them. I hated all of them. I wanted to cause them pain. So Draco taught me dark magic, magic I can only assume he learned from Voldemort himself. I became very powerful, and extremely vengeful. I no longer went by Ginny, the name was too frivolous, and made me think of my former self.

I owed so much to Draco, and over time I became similar to a servant. We were married, despite the lack of love or admiration. Neither of us were happy, but content with what we had. We did not have a sex life; touching him was like touching a corpse, cold and lifeless. I was well aware of the women Draco invited over while I went out every week, and while he could probably guess I knew, we both acted as though nothing was wrong.

One particular night, while my husband was entranced by yet another woman, I decided to have a drink at the Leaky Cauldron after doing my shopping.

"Firewhiskey like always, Tom" I received my usual drink, when I heard a strangely familiar voice from somewhere to my right.

"I'll take a rum, please." The voice said.

"Only Muggles drink rum! Sure you don't want something a bit more magical? It'll get the job done much better." Said the old barkeep.

"No thanks, Tom, just the rum tonight."

I gulped down my whiskey and turned to have my worst fear recognized: Harry Potter was sitting at the bar. I tried to hide my face with my cloak, but was unsuccessful when Tom asked "What's wrong, Mrs. Malfoy?" I tried to swat away his question, but to my right I could feel a curious Harry peering over to see who was low enough to marry someone like Draco.

I couldn't stay here, I had to escape. Covering my face with my hood, I got up and hurriedly walked toward the exit.

"WAIT!" Oh great, he must have seen my face. He knows it's me. . . He's going to try to talk to me. . . "Wait, Mrs. -er- Malfoy, you forgot your bags." So he hadn't see my face; I still had a chance to espace unrecognized. I turned around, looking at the ground, trying to hide my true identity. I saw his feet running toward me. "Here you are." Harry handed me the bags.

"Thanks." I muttered, turning to leave once again.

But he stopped me again. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" He asked, grabbing my shoulder and turning me around. I was unprepared, and didn't have time to veil my face. He gasped, his hand fell from my shoulder, growing limp at his side. "Ginny?" He whispered in disbelief.

"Hello Harry." I looked up at him, seeing him for the first time in fifteen years. He was different, older, taller, and wiser looking, yet still the same boy that left all those years ago.

"But. . . But Tom said. . . Mrs. Malfoy? It can't be true!" He was in utter shock.

"Why can't it? I married Draco three years ago. He's a powerful man, and a fne husband." While this wasn't exactly the truth, it wasn't a lie either. Draco did provide very well for me. We were wealthy and well set.

"I don't believe it. Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy! Who would have ever thought?" His reaction seemed odd to me. Had he forgotten our past? How I loved him with every ounce of soul in me, and how he had promised he'd return to me? "How did your parents take it? Must have been a shock, eh?"

"First off, no one calls me Ginny anymore, it's Ginevra. Secondly, I do not speak to my parents, or anyone in my family for that matter. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have someone at home waiting for me."

I turned to walk away, but once again I was stopped. This time he grabbed my wrist. "No! Please don't go. Stay awhile, let's catch up. It's been so long. Too long. . ." I could see a sense of pleading in his eye. "C'mon, let's take a walk. Talk a bit." I was not quick to accept the offer, but finally I nodded in agreement. We set out of the pub and down Diagon Ally, where most of the stores were closing up for the night. It was surreal, walking down the road with him. This boy, this man, had been haunting me for years, and now we were together as if nothing had ever happened.

"Want to get a bite to eat? I'm starving." I was hardly listening to him, but I found myself nodding to whatever he had asked me. He led me to a small little restaurant cramped between two stores that I never knew exsisted. It was nearly empty, except for a couple huddled together in a corner. We sat down at a booth and just stared at each other from across the table.

"Wow, Gin, I can't believe it's really you. How've you been?" The candle light made him look even more mature than before. It was almost sexy the way the light danced across his face. I could not understand how he could be so casual about this meeting. I was dying inside, but dedicated to not showing any sign of weakness. I would not let my guard down. He could not break me.

"I've been alright." I sipped the wine that had just been delivered to our table. Harry continued to stare at me. I tried to keep the conversation flowing. "How have you been? I haven't heard from you in over a decade."

"I've been keeping a low profile for a while. The Death Eaters haven't taken lightly to the fall of their master. I needed to stay out of trouble for a while. You know, clear my head, regain my strength."

And so the conversation carried on. We'd ask eachother questions about the past fifteen years, we'd answer. It was a nice, polite chat. If any outsider was looking in, they would have never guessed that Harry and I had a romantic history. We were just two school friends, catching up on each other's adult lives. Throughout the conversation I downed about five glasses of wine, which did not react well with the firewhiskey I drank earlier; I immediatly realized when getting up to leave. I stumbled and nearly fell getting out of my chair. Luckily, Harry caught me before I hit the ground.

"You're drunk. You're in no condition to apparate home." He pulled me off the ground by my arm, which he draped over his shoulder and led me out of the restaurant.

"I'm fine. I do this all the time. Don't worry about me." But apparently the mention of me being like this all the time made him even more concerened. Infact, over the past couple of years I had become somewhat of an alcoholic. Unfortunatly, me being so petite, I could not handle too many drinks. It was not my mind that was effected by the alcohol, however, it was mostly my motions, which were exaggerated and wobbley.

"Gin, I think you should come to my house. I'll give you a drunken remedy potion, then you can go home to your husband." I, being in no hurry to go home and find Draco in bed with another woman, agreed to his proposal. He grabbed my arm, and with a crack we appeared in a very cozy, yet messy and cluttered, living room. "Here, have a seat, I'll go get that potion."

Instead of taking a seat on the couch, I began looking around the room. The desk was covered in papers, scattered all over it, the bookcase was completely filled with old, leather-bound books, giving it the appearence that if one more item was added to it, the shelves would topple over. The coffee table was covered beneath what appeared to be the reminants of a dinner long forgotten. The couch was small, a love sofa, but looked extremely comfortable and inviting. I sat down just as Harry reentered the room, handing me the potion.

"Cheers." I held the vial to him before downing the repulsive liquid in one gulp. I felt my face scrunch up in disgust, and the effect hit me like a load of bricks. My vision came into clear focus and I no longer had the feeling as though I was about to fall over. "Thank you." He nodded in response, and looked at me as though he expected me to get up and disapparate. When I did no such thing, he took a seat next to me on the couch.

"How do you like it?" I looked up at him, confused about what he was talking about. "My house, I mean. C'mon, I'll show you around." He grabbed my hand and lead me from room to room, giving me a tour. The house was surprisingly large for one person living there. "This was my grandparents house," he explained, "Apparently, my grandfather left it to my dad, but he didn't want it 'cause he wanted to provide for himself or some rubbish, so now its mine." As we moved along, I noticed that each room was just as messy, if not messier, than its preceedant. That is, until we reached Harry's bedroom.

It looked nothing like the rest of the house. The high ceilings, scarlet carpet, and gold drapes and bed spread reminded me of Gryffindor tower. It was shockingly neat, everything seemed to have a place. I stepped away from Harry to get a better look at the spectacular room. From the exquisite woodwork on the frame of the king-sized bed, to the intricately crafted bureaus, to the beautiful artwork lining the walls. Then my eyes fell upon two pictures sitting on his night stand. They were photographs, unlike the paintings around the room. Both were pictures of brilliant redheads being held at the waist by a black haired, bespeckled men.

"Harry. . ." I wheeled around to face him. He walked over and joined me.

"My mum and dad, and-"

"_Us_. Harry, why do you still have this?" I reached for the photo, but he beat me to it. He examined it.

"This is my favorite picture." He put it back down on the night stand, and took a seat on his bed. We were in silence for a few minutes. I was too shocked to talk, I had no idea what to say to him. After all these years, he still has a picture of us next to his bed.

"Harry, I..." I knew I had to say something to him, but I didn't know what. So many question to ask, so many things I needed to know. But one question had been on my mind for over ten years, "Why didn't you come back for me?"

He looked up at me, his gorgeous emerald eyes penetrating my soul, searching deep down into me. I could feel him struggle as to whether or not he should tell me why he did not return. Finally, he settled on a response. "I was afraid."

"A-Afraid?" That was certainly not what I had expected. What had I expected, though? For him to have realized that I wasn't worth the effort and had just forgotten me? No. At least, not after I saw that photograph.

"Afraid that you had moved on." I felt as though I had been clubbed over the head.

"Moved on? I waited for you to come back and save me for ten years. Ten years and I didn't even think about moving on. Ten years and I didn't give up hope for you. Now finally you're back in my life, you're here, you're real, and it's too late. I'm married, Harry!" I broke down in tears. "I'm married to a great man, who takes good care of me."

"I don't believe you." It was all he said. I didn't quite understand what he was talking about.

"What?"

"I don't believe he takes good care of you. I don't believe he's a great man. You wouldn't be here right now if he was, would you? You would have left a long time ago. You're not happy, Ginny. You don't love him."

He had no idea what he was talking about. How could he know how I felt about _my own_ husband? "That's crazy, of course-"

"Ginny, look me in the eye and tell me you love him." My eyes started to water. He could see through me. He could read my thoughts and my heart. He knew the battle that was engaging inside my head. I felt a tear trickle down my face. Draco was my husband, of course I had _some_ feelings for him.

"I lo-...I lo-...I can't!" The words just couldn't leave my lips. I leaped onto him and cried into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and held me the way he used to, stroking my hair and whispering soothing words into my ear. "I don't love him, Harry, I've never loved him." I sobbed.

"I know."

"I only married him because I felt empty without you. I didn't think you'd ever come back to me. I was so alone...so scared. I've always loved you, Harry!" And then something clicked in my head and I finally expressed fifteen years of bottled up feelings and emotions with one single action: a kiss.

The second our lips made contact, I could feel a rush of electricty running through me, and could tell he was feeling the same thrill. It had been too long since our bodies had met in bliss, too long since we had been entangled in one another's grasp and it felt amazing to have it back again. It was not a gentle kiss by any means, this was a kiss of passion, of want, and of need. Deeper and deeper the kiss became, and soon our tongues engaged in a desirous tango.

Our hands were flying across each other, retracing the paths they knew long ago. I felt his hands moving upwards, exploring the curves of my thighs, hips, and breasts as I twirlled a finger through his hair. Brushing down his spine, to his lower back, I slipped my hand underneath his shirt, gently tickling his back and sides. I could feel him shiver, and I smiled to myself. He, following my lead, crept under my own blouse, caressing my skin, while moving his hand up towards my bra.

The contact between his rough fingers and my soft, smooth skin sent chills down my spine. He pulled and played with my bra, then reaching around me skillfully undid the hook. I took this as a signal to move a little further; running my hand down his stomach, to the button on his pants, which I fumbled with until it popped open. He relocated his hands to my hips, where he tugged at the hem of my shirt before grabbing the sides, and pulling it up over my head.

I could feel him shifting beneath my grasp, then suddenly, breaking the bond between our lips, he grabbed me and pushed me down, resting my head on his pillow. He then ripped off his own shirt, before reclaiming my mouth and pressing his body against mine. The feeling of his bare chest against mine was indescribable, but it made me crave more, to go further. My hands, which had been fondling his shoulders, trailed down his back, to the waist of his jeans. I slid my hand underneath them, rubbing his lower back, then I pulled them around to his front side, just above his-

He groaned, and again I smiled against his mouth. I felt in power, knowing I could make him sound like that. He must have had the need for more as well, for he severed our kiss and began unbuttoning my pants and sliding them off of me. I giggled to show my approval, and then I leaned up, kissing him gently, while I began struggling to pull his own pants off, which he helped me with. He looked down at me, love and caring shining through those green eyes, and bent over, lightly kissing me once. I was growing anxious, and began to wiggle out of the final article of clothing on my body. He did the same, taking off his own under garment, before coming down and reinstating our lustful dance of tongues.

My body was aching, itching to become one with his, but Harry wouldn't complete the process. He seemed to be unsure of whether or not he should do this with a married woman. I, on the other hand, knew that we both need this. It just felt so right to be here with him.

"Harry..." I managed to whisper between kisses. He broke the kiss and looked down at me questioningly. "Do you love me?"

He considered for a moment, though I could understand he knew and had always known the answer. "I've loved you for sixteen years. I've never stopped loving you. I'll never stop loving you." I smiled, but do not speak my opinion. I feel like the same giddy school girl I was so long ago, back with Harry, just how it was when we were young and in love and perfect. He knew what I was thinking, my body was screaming it out to him. It was shouting from my very core that I feel the same.

He kissed me again, this time fearless. We both wanted it. We both needed it. And with a final mutter of "I love you, Ginny" he took the plunge into eternal rapture.

XxX

I looked over at his peaceful face, shining in a sliver of moonlight. I would not wake him, it would be best to let him sleep. I grabbed my clothes, which were lying crumpled in a heap on the floor next to the bed, and dressed. Despite the preceding events of the night feeling so right, it had been incredibly wrong, and both myself and Harry knew it. With a kiss on his cheek, I grabbed my wand and pointed it at the locked window. "Alohamora." It sprang open, and I climbed out, heading to the road to catch the Knightbus. It was very late. Surely Draco would be alone by now, done with his imperative fuck.

As predicted, Draco was sleeping alone in our dark bedroom. He was sprawled out on the bed, leaving little room for me to squeeze in. While examining the pathetic bastard laying in front of me, I realized he could never even dream of being half the man Harry is. He, unlike Draco, had the power to care, and be cared for respectively, where as my husband only knew of the "being cared for" portion. However, a life with Draco Malfoy was the path I chose. Not even a night alone with the man I have given my heart to all those years ago would change that. This, here with my husband, is my destiny.

Over the next few months I attempted to push all thoughts of Harry Potter out of my head. I tried not think about our passionate reunion, what he must have thought when he woke up, or any memories we have shared together. We both knew our love could never amount to anything; we had made too many mistakes for us to be together now. I remained faithful to my husband, and pretended to be blissfully unaware of his reoccurring affairs. I knew where I belong, at home taking care of Draco, despite my dream of a better life. And though the dream will never become a reality, I'll always have the scars from that one unforgettable night with the man I fell in love with.


End file.
